Bad Lucc Outchea Lyrics

Last updated: 11/09/2012 05:12:28 AM

Sounds good to me

Bad Lucc on the corner with the boys doin a bam
We talkin mixin, I done give my brother golf bat
Press the line and I’mma whippin like a grand daddy
Spillin vodka, got the choppa in the grand Natty
Tryina settle with them hustlers on that gunplay
Outchea nothing, turn your block into a runway
I’m suited up, I speak of molly over 7 grams
They turned a nigga to a ghost over 7 bands
My 5-0-1’s hangin, chain swingin
From the prevlass to the Raymonds – gang bangin
Southern Cali with the drop, man the greats revealed
We ain’t gonna steal your collar nigga, buck a bill
No bueno, the Sanos, a bunch of Canos
Rip out your heart and they been A-Holes since last patranos
Watch bread I’mma poppin like a K move
Diamond Lane official, O T L Gang too

Aye aye aye aye fuck all that shit nigga
You already know what my shit do
Line that shit up my nigga, yea that

Topic of discussion – where the gang moves
Whippin through the city like I came loose
I be outchea with a bat, went in the zip and kill er
I tell that bitch you seen my bitch? You better keep it realer
They keep mob close, breaking down a couple grams
You hit the city with the blam like the Son of Sam
Knock a nigga out his shoes for the scheming
Then he is cripping in his blood, bring a demon
Beamin, leanin, hangin, maintainin
I pull your bitch up in this lane and she name changing
Fatty boostin, man I’m pilin up the molly damn
My brother Blackie pulled a Mexi and she probly down
To let us get it, call me if she with it
B A D, I’m bout that business, they only fit it
I born fully, never fail, I’m about the nail
Out the gate fresh as hell like my broad chills

I’m going big on these bosses, I do my thing fully
Runnin up on these hoes, go tack my name Judy
I’m getting money persona, me and Bad like a camma
And I stay with that Bud like my name Rudy
Straight safe, rollin rollin big
Suburban, urban, got me my lane, nigga swerving
2013, this a turn up, a wrap
I still don’t give a fuck like the burglars (brah!)
My candle, be ridin like a 4 door
Cop the California boy, I came about the photo
A nigga play me homo, I used him as a promo
Bomb first, bomb worse, now go and let your bro low
The problem ain’t havin it, grind so passionate
Hide in the kitchen, special K’s in the cabinet
Pull and get to grabbing it, like fuckin let me at em
Cyber thugs tweetin bout me but they never have met em